Page 43 of Book and Ladder
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I like you, Patrick. A lot. I always have. But I’m a big girl. I don’t ever want to be in a lopsided romance.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
This. This is why I don’t date.
“I …” I search for words to help restore equilibrium.
“Hey,” Blaire says softly. “We’ve known one another for years. Our parents are good friends. Waterford is small.” She smiles at me through the darkness of the car. “We’re good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Let me walk you to your door,” I offer.
“I’m actually fine. And, thank you. I had a lovely dinner.” She pauses. “Far better than Daisy’s night, am I right?”
I smile. “Yeah. No doubt.”
Blaire opens the car door and steps out. I watch her walk up her walkway and into her home.
Was I wrong? Should I have given this another shot? Or two?
For some reason M&M comes to mind. She’s not going to be anything more than an online acquaintance. Friend? But I feel more kinship with her than I have with any woman I remember. She’s fun to talk to. And she doesn’t let me off the hook. She has no idea what I look like, what I do for a living, how I grew up. She appreciates me for my love of books.
I did the right thing telling Blaire no. I know what I want in a relationship.
When I pull up to my duplex, Daisy’s at her door. The guy that took her out passes me on the walkway. I have to step onto the grass to make room for him to get by. I turn and glance at his car. His mom is waiting patiently in the front seat of his Beemer.
Daisy’s fumbling with her keys by the time I step onto the porch.
“Don’t,” she says, not even turning to look me in the eyes.
A catalog of comments flashes through my brain.
They say you can watch how a boy treats his mom to see how he’ll treat you. You really got to test that theory tonight …
Or …Last time I needed a chaperone was sophomore homecoming …
Or …Looks like she called shotgun.
But, to my credit, I keep my mouth shut.
“Okay,” I say. “I won’t.”
Daisy glances over at me, her brow scrunched and her eyes slightly narrowed.
“Good night, Patrick,” she says, without any bite to her words.
She opens the door and steps inside. I watch her go until the door snicks shut and her deadbolt slides into place.
Why does Daisy silently slipping into her side of our house twist me up inside—while watching Blaire didn’t even stir up a flicker? I don’t want to unpack that tonight.
I change out of my slacks and dress shirt and tug on some old pajama bottoms and my favorite T-shirt, which is nearly threadbare. I’m not tired, so I turn on the TV and try to watch a show. I can’t focus. I pad upstairs, grab the book I’m reading and lean back on my headboard. I try to reread the same page three times before giving up.
